


It's Not The Knife That Hurts, But The Wound It Leaves

by pendragonfics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Death, F/M, Fake Character Death, Fluff, Heavy Angst, If you're reading the tags, It's okay in the end, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Canon, Reunited and It Feels So Good, This Story is HEAVY boi, Triggers, Which Is Kind of The Point Because, gender neutral reader, no pronouns used, you'll figure out the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonfics/pseuds/pendragonfics
Summary: Loki being dead to the world, to the Avengers, to you; it wasn’t real. It never had been, why would it be now? He never stayed dead for long, and if he was in hiding, you’d find him.Please do not read this if you are triggered in any way, shape, or form byAvengers: Infinity War Part 1, the theme of character death, and, heavy angst. Please know that if you have suicidal thoughts,there is help for you out there.





	It's Not The Knife That Hurts, But The Wound It Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first up: I will repeat that this story is very angsty, and while does not glorify it, it can be hard for people who have trouble with their own mental health to read. If you, or anyone close to you is having a hard time, call (Australia only) Lifeline at **13 11 14** , because no matter what, you are worth it. The link in the summary is a worldwide page of international hotlines, for non-Australian readers. 
> 
> Please know that I am writing this with your - yes, _your_ \- mental health in mind, so please don't try and tough it through if you will be affected. I care for each and every one of you who read my fanfic, and I would be absolutely devastated if anything were to happen. 
> 
> Secondly: I wrote this on the train (initially, before self-Beta) before a night out & when I was a lil tipsy on the return journey in the early morning. Writing this, it's a similar time because insomnia, wth. I've never written angst like this before, and I'm not sure if it's tagged as "heavy" because it's heavier than my usual, or because it's truly heavy, so please excuse me if it is/isn't what the tags say. Personal interpretation, yo! 
> 
> Anyways, sorry for A/N'ing in the notes again, this ain't a 2009 Wattpad fic that's 80% drivel. I'll let y'all get to the pain and suffering (again, sorry).
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ...enjoy!

There was a notion that there was something freeing, in the idea of death. Perhaps even the event of it, too. But this was to other people, surely, to those who had stared it in the face with their own eyes, a bullfighter to a bull, and choosing to fight onward. To you, death was…a place. A destination? Yes, that was more like it. If life was a train journey, one stop after another, death was the end of the line, simply another place.

Loki being dead to the world, to the Avengers, to you; it wasn’t real. It never had been, why would it be now? He never stayed dead for long, and if he was in hiding, you’d find him.

You just hoped not at the end of the line.

You try your best not to think of what happened, because when you think of it, you dwell, and your thoughts become cloudy, dark. Unsavoury. You try to think of anything else, but like everything else in your life, you keep coming back, to face the facts.

Number one: you survived the curse that Thanos put the Earth under, the snap.

Number two: you weren’t there in Wakanda to fight him, unlike the rest of the Avengers. The cabin you and Loki chose, secluded from society had few ways to contact someone there, and by the time that you heard, it was too late. If only you had been there…

Number three: despite these three facts, none of them would have helped Loki.

It didn’t matter to you that there was no Asgard, no Heimdall to hail you to space to search the Yggdrasil of the nine realms for your lover. With the help of stealth technology, exploitation of weak-link employees of Stark’s own labour, you impersonated him, stole a prototype spaceship Quinjet, and booked it out of the stratosphere to the coordinates that the Hulk had hailed from, before -

But when you got there, there was nothing. Just orbiting space junk that you had to assume was remains of Thor’s ship, lingering, a reminder of the damage caused by the demon who destroyed so many lives. The cold carnage of war left no favours to the losing side.

After that, you flew everywhere. Planets, both artificial and natural, inhabited asteroid belts, ships that were willing to dock with you - all places that your wildest imagination could never have concocted as a child. But no matter what, when you asked if anyone had seen, heard of or knew word of Loki, brother of Thor, the King of Asgard, there was silence that met your ears. It would seem that people did not care for him, nor wanted to care for him, but desperate, with low credits and lower fuel in the tank of your vessel, you spoke another name.

“What of Jötunheim, then?” you proposed.

The rowdy bar went silent in a matter of seconds upon the utterance of the planet of the Frost Giants. You were about to leave when a man, of dishevelled appearance; crooked teeth, patchy hair, wild eyes, approached you.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, speaking in a thicker accent than motor oil, or molasses.

He passed you a note discreetly, folded within your palm, but when you went to ask what he meant by those words, or thank him, the man was gone, disappeared into the crowd of the intergalactic creatures.

Once returned to the Quinjet, you opened the note, imploring, hoping, that it was good news. A lead. But like the last lead, it was simply just numbers, scrawled on the page; coordinates. You tried not to feel so let down; it would have been a long shot if the stranger had written _Loki is XY_. Like the good soldier you were, you followed your new lead, like the train of life, another stop.

It led you to a place where there was no mistake of the fact that it was Jötunheim. As soon as your ship landed, you felt the strong winds batter the sides of the Quinjet, the insulation doing little to protect you from the outside. But as soon as you made it to the outside, suited up in what extra layers you could find, you found that both you and the ship were surrounded by Frost Giants. Cautiously, you complied, unsure how you felt at being at the other end of the weapon as they herded you like a prisoner. You were an _Avenger_ on your planet, a solider. Here? Fodder for these creature’s wills. A speck.

As you were herded, you had time for your mind to wander, as your body got colder and colder as you moved with the Giants. In the little time that you and Loki had had together, you had heard all his stories, of places like the ones where you had been. From himself, from the mouths of others, it didn’t matter. Perhaps because they were all stories in the end, just like now, you were becoming one. An unwise decision, to escape Earth without telling anyone, just to die on Jötunheim. You had heard stories of Thor the King, the grubby speakeasies and relaxed crime across the galaxy, the planets like Musspelheim and Knowhere, like Niflheim and Jötunheim.

To think that you had thought you were a regular person. Before S. H. I. E. L. D., of course, picking you from your college alumni for your brain capacity, and training you to become one of the best unassuming undercover operatives they had on payroll. From being a spy, you become a soldier, never questioning, always acting for the good of Fury and Coulson. From being a soldier, you became an Avenger, after they formed, and since, life was never the same. You were always helping others, never yourself: the good soldier.

All of this ran through your head as the Frost Giants marched you toward a place that looked nothing short of sinister.

 _This is how I die_ , you thought. You had no doubt about it - this was the last stop on the train for you. _We’re at the end of the line_.

The Jötuns tossed you onto a sheet of ice, your palms catching you sharply as you fell. You looked up at what you were thrown before, and all you could think of, was the word _throne_. It soared high above you, carved into the snow and ice with shards that caught the light in a terrifying display of defiance of the temperature. There was a Jötun who sat at the top, looking down at you with a red-eyed glare, and frightened, you shivered in anticipation of your fate.

“I know of your kind,” the creature spoke garbled words, but it was in English, and it was loud enough to vibrate your ribcage. You shook once more, this time, you were sure it wasn’t the cold. “ _Human_. What brings your kind to my domain?”  

“I have been searching,” you tell him, unsure if the wind carried your words away, or not. You kept your eyes to yourself, out of fear, and respect. “Across the galaxy.”

The Jötun King laughed, a booming threat. “What makes you think that I care to hear of the words of a human?” the creature retorted, harshly. “I am a King.”

“Evidently,” you reply, the words rolling from your tongue before your mind can think not to, “but humans rarely stray from their planet, if you know. And yet, here I am, searching for the man that I love.” You reiterate, and cautiously, you add, “From what I gather, few visit your ‘ _domain_ ’, and fewer stay to talk, and that would make anyone lonely, let alone miserable.” You say.

“Bold words,” the King said.

“Please,” you plead. “I looked everywhere, and this planet, it’s…it’s the last place I have to search, it’s…it’s the last place I can be before I run out of resources. “After this,” you sucked in a deep breath, your chest hiccupping in emotion, “I’ll have no choice.”

“My land might be frozen, but not my intrigue.” The King responds, “Leave us be, my Guards. Now, human, your tale. Go on.”

“The man that I love, he is not like me. Like anyone. He has seen Hel itself and yet smiles to me so sweet. He speaks with a tongue to silver and can command all with his words.” You speak carefully, choosing your words with caution. “He…he came from this place. He came from Asgard. And if we had had more time together, he might have called the Earth his home too…”

“What of this man, of yours? Lovers have no cause to flee.” The King spoke up.

You shook your head, “Yes, but he was a warrior. A prince. He would never flee or cower. He hated to think he was noble, and yet he was…my love, he died.”

“Dead men go nowhere.” The King’s words cut you deep, and you felt a fury course through your cooling blood, your numbing hands.

You shook your head. Defiant. “ _No_. He never stayed dead. First, he fell into the abyss on the cusp of Asgard, and yet, he returned. He nearly died at the hands of the Dark Elf, Malekith, but he did not, and with time, we reunited. And Thanos -,”

“A war criminal, unwelcome here.” The King spat.

“He - he can’t have died.” You speak up. “When he survived, he would have been weak, weaker than usual, suspended his Asgardian glamor and appeared to be Jötun, but not a Giant.” You resist the urge to look to the King, but your words, they implore him. “Please, have you heard of him, his legacy? Word, tale, news…?”

The King guffawed, and from the sounds you were hearing, he was dismounting his throne, coming toward you. “Have _I_ , heard word of a small Jötun, who cannot die? Whose tongue is metal, who is noble?” the hope you held so very close to your heart quivers, optimistic despite all circumstance. “ _No_.”

The word parried at your heart, and it shattered in your chest. “No,” you repeated - a whisper, a curse, a plea. From where you sit on the ice, it touched you, yes, but now it crawled inside your bones, into your mind, and seemed to sit on top of all feelings, numbing all but misery. “He - no. No!” you cry out, burying your head in your hands.

“No one survives Thanos.” He says, grim.

You shake you head once more. “I did. And yet, he didn’t. It’s my fault - if only I -,” you squinch your eyes shut, the cold air freezing your tears as they fall. “If I had his seidr, or Doctor Strange’s magic, I could go back, save him -,”

“The dead are dead for reasons,” the King huffed. “And unlike your love, they stay dead.”

“But he - no…” you gape. “I’ve come all of this way. I did all the right things, I was a good soldier!” you exclaim. “This can’t be fair!”

As you open your eyes, you see his feet before your face, close enough to see the markings upon his skin. Scared, you recoil. You feel like all the denial of all of it is floating away, and it’s settling in. _Finally_. Loki is dead. So many of your friends, so many of the Avengers, so much of your family, so many humans who called Earth their home are dead.

And there is nothing that you can do about it.

“King of the Jötuns, I ask one thing of you.” You shake, the grief breaking you down.

“Only if I can ask the same of you.”

You nod; a simple bargain. “I want you to strike me dead.”

“An odd request, but…only if you tell me the name of the man you love.” The King asks you. A beat passes, and he adds, “Today is momentous. If I have heard your tale, I want all of it, before you die.”

“His name was Loki,” the words tumble out, but you speak his name with care, cradling it with all your heart, like his name could break at any mishandling. “Loki of Jötunheim, of Asgard, of…of my heart.”

The King does nothing, and swaying, you let out a moan, pained, like a wounded animal. “Please!” you screech. “I kept my end of the bargain -,”

“I want to ask another thing of you.” The Jötun King demands. You tremble. “As I do the deed, you must look at me.”

Slowly, you raise your head, eyes closed. You know that he is right before you, and when your head is at the right angle, he will carry out your wish, and you will be looking at the terrifying Frost Giant. Your chin raised, your eyes flutter open, the world beyond your eyelids coming into focus. You expect the breath in your throat to be your last, the same as these thoughts in your mind.

For the train of life to reach its final destination -

To be with Loki. At last.

“Look at me.” He says, and you comply.

Except, standing before you is not the Jötun King that you were expecting. He has dark hair and with every second passing his skin pales from blue to ice white. He has green eyes and bright marks on his neck that look like they hurt still. He wears tattered clothes unlike what a King would wear, and in the corners of his eyes there are tears that have fallen, and threaten to fall again. There is an ache to his soul that you can feel, like he has been to Hel, and survived it.

He was Loki.

“You…” your breath is gone, your whole body without strength to go on. “ _You bastard_.” You might whisper the curse, but there is no malice behind it.

“My love,” he says, taking steps toward you, and you rise only to sink into his chilled embrace. He holds you tight, and hearing his heartbeat, you relax into his chest, “My world.”

“I found you,” you murmur, covering him with kisses. “I - I did it. I flew to the stars for you, and all my wishes came true.”

“I had no strength to return to Earth, to Thor.” Loki tells you. “I heard the news of what Thanos did to Midgard…I had no hope that you survived. He kisses you deeply, cradling you close, your bodies so very near that you might meld into one. “I feared you to be an imposter as soon as I saw your face…please forgive me for my interrogation, my love.”

“I can,” you whisper. “And I will.”

“I would never strike my lover dead.” Loki adds, kissing your forehead. It’s then you feel a tingling sensation throughout your whole body, like every other time that Loki used his magic upon you. There was warmth to your limbs again, and revitalised, you shared it with him. He slides his hand into your own, and the both of you walk toward where the Frost Giants escorted you from your ship. “Let’s go home, my love.”

There might be something freeing in the idea of death. But to be reunited with the one that you love? To live another day with renewed purpose? That was better - a thousand times better.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr on as @chaotic--lovely, and if you want to request a fic, check out [@pendragonfics](https://pendragonfics.tumblr.com/request_conditions)! ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


End file.
